Stoneground Ghost Tales

G. Swain E.

Description

Though a cleric by trade, E. G. Swain achieved his greatest acclaim via the publication of this chilling collection of ghost stories. Featuring a heavily autobiographical narrator, the eccentric but kindly Reverend Batchel, all nine tales are set in a parish in the gloomy marshes of England's eastern Fenlands.

Informations

• Publié par: The Floating Press
• Date de parution: 01 mai 2014
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781776533657
• Langue: English

Extrait

THE STONEGROUND GHOST TALES
COMPILED FROM THE RECOLLECTIONS OF THE REVEREND ROLAND BATCHEL, THE VICAR OF THE PARISH
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E. G. SWAIN
 
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The Stoneground Ghost Tales Compiled from the Recollections of the Reverend Roland Batchel, the Vicar of the Parish First published in 1912 Epub ISBN 978-1-77653-365-7 Also available: PDF ISBN 978-1-77653-366-4 © 2014 The Floating Press and its licensors. All rights reserved. While every effort has been used to ensure the accuracy and reliability of the information contained in The Floating Press edition of this book, The Floating Press does not assume liability or responsibility for any errors or omissions in this book. The Floating Press does not accept responsibility for loss suffered as a result of reliance upon the accuracy or currency of information contained in this book. Do not use while operating a motor vehicle or heavy equipment. Many suitcases look alike. Visit www.thefloatingpress.com
Contents
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I - The Man with the Roller II - Bone to His Bone III - The Richpins IV - The Eastern Window V - Lubrietta VI - The Rockery VII - The Indian Lamp-Shade VIII - The Place of Safety IX - The Kirk Spook
*
TO
MONTAGUE RHODES JAMES
(LITT.D., HON. LITT.D. DUBLIN, HON. LL.D. ST. ANDR., F.B.A., F.S.A., ETC.) PROVOST OF KING'S COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE, FOR TWENTY PLEASANT YEARS MR. BATCHEL'S FRIEND, AND THE INDULGENT PARENT OF SUCH TASTES AS THESE PAGES INDICATE.
I - The Man with the Roller
*
On the edge of that vast tract of East Anglia, which retains itsancient name of the Fens, there may be found, by those who know whereto seek it, a certain village called Stoneground. It was once apicturesque village. To-day it is not to be called either a village,or picturesque. Man dwells not in one "house of clay," but in two, andthe material of the second is drawn from the earth upon which this andthe neighbouring villages stood. The unlovely signs of the industryhave changed the place alike in aspect and in population. Many who haveseen the fossil skeletons of great saurians brought out of the clayin which they have lain from pre-historic times, have thought thatthe inhabitants of the place have not since changed for the better.The chief habitations, however, have their foundations not upon clay,but upon a bed of gravel which anciently gave to the place its name,and upon the highest part of this gravel stands, and has stood formany centuries, the Parish Church, dominating the landscape for milesaround.
Stoneground, however, is no longer the inaccessible village, which inthe middle ages stood out above a waste of waters. Occasional floodsserve to indicate what was once its ordinary outlook, but in morerecent times the construction of roads and railways, and the drainageof the Fens, have given it freedom of communication with the world fromwhich it was formerly isolated.
The Vicarage of Stoneground stands hard by the Church, and is renownedfor its spacious garden, part of which, and that (as might be expected)the part nearest the house, is of ancient date. To the original plotsuccessive Vicars have added adjacent lands, so that the garden hasgradually acquired the state in which it now appears.
The Vicars have been many in number. Since Henry de Greville wasinstituted in the year 1140 there have been 30, all of whom have lived,and most of whom have died, in successive vicarage houses upon thepresent site.
The present incumbent, Mr. Batchel, is a solitary man of somewhatstudious habits, but is not too much enamoured of his solitude toreceive visits, from time to time, from schoolboys and such. In thesummer of the year 1906 he entertained two, who are the occasion ofthis narrative, though still unconscious of their part in it, forone of the two, celebrating his 15th birthday during his visit toStoneground, was presented by Mr. Batchel with a new camera, with whichhe proceeded to photograph, with considerable skill, the surroundingsof the house.
One of these photographs Mr. Batchel thought particularly pleasing. Itwas a view of the house with the lawn in the foreground. A few smallcopies, such as the boy's camera was capable of producing, were sentto him by his young friend, some weeks after the visit, and again Mr.Batchel was so much pleased with the picture, that he begged for thenegative, with the intention of having the view enlarged.
The boy met the request with what seemed a needlessly modest plea.There were two negatives, he replied, but each of them had, in the samepart of the picture, a small blur for which there was no accountingotherwise than by carelessness. His desire, therefore, was to discardthese films, and to produce something more worthy of enlargement, upona subsequent visit.
Mr. Batchel, however, persisted in his request, and upon receipt of thenegative, examined it with a lens. He was just able to detect the bluralluded to; an examination under a powerful glass, in fact revealedsomething more than he had at first detected. The blur was like thenucleus of a comet as one sees it represented in pictures, and seemedto be connected with a faint streak which extended across the negative.It was, however, so inconsiderable a defect that Mr. Batchel resolvedto disregard it. He had a neighbour whose favourite pastime wasphotography, one who was notably skilled in everything that pertainedto the art, and to him he sent the negative, with the request for anenlargement, reminding him of a long-standing promise to do any suchservice, when as had now happened, his friend might see fit to ask it.
This neighbour who had acquired such skill in photography was one Mr.Groves, a young clergyman, residing in the Precincts of the Minsternear at hand, which was visible from Mr. Batchel's garden. He lodgedwith a Mrs. Rumney, a superannuated servant of the Palace, and astrong-minded vigorous woman still, exactly such a one as Mr. Grovesneeded to have about him. For he was a constant trial to Mrs. Rumney,and but for the wholesome fear she begot in him, would have convertedhis rooms into a mere den. Her carpets and tablecloths were continuallybespattered with chemicals; her chimney-piece ornaments had beenunceremoniously stowed away and replaced by labelled bottles; even thebed of Mr. Groves was, by day, strewn with drying films and mounts, andher old and favourite cat had a bald patch on his flank, the result ofa mishap with the pyrogallic acid.
Mrs. Rumney's lodger, however, was a great favourite with her, assuch helpless men are apt to be with motherly women, and she took nosmall pride in his work. A life-size portrait of herself, originally apeace-offering, hung in her parlour, and had long excited the envy ofevery friend who took tea with her.
"Mr. Groves," she was wont to say, "is a nice gentleman, AND agentleman; and chemical though he may be, I'd rather wait on him fornothing than what I would on anyone else for twice the money."
Every new piece of photographic work was of interest to Mrs. Rumney,and she expected to be allowed both to admire and to criticise. Theview of Stoneground Vicarage, therefore, was shown to her upon itsarrival. "Well may it want enlarging," she remarked, "and it nobigger than a postage stamp; it looks more like a doll's house than avicarage," and with this she went about her work, whilst Mr. Grovesretired to his dark room with the film, to see what he could make ofthe task assigned to him.
Two days later, after repeated visits to his dark room, he had madesomething considerable; and when Mrs. Rumney brought him his chop forluncheon, she was lost in admiration. A large but unfinished printstood upon his easel, and such a picture of Stoneground Vicarage was inthe making as was calculated to delight both the young photographer andthe Vicar.
Mr. Groves spent only his mornings, as a rule, in photography. Hisafternoons he gave to pastoral work, and the work upon this enlargementwas over for the day. It required little more than "touching up,"but it was this "touching up" which made the difference betweenthe enlargements of Mr. Groves and those of other men. The print,therefore, was to be left upon the easel until the morrow, when itwas to be finished. Mrs. Rumney and he, together, gave it an admiringinspection as she was carrying away the tray, and what they agreed inadmiring most particularly was the smooth and open stretch of lawn,which made so excellent a foreground for the picture. "It looks," saidMrs. Rumney, who had once been young, "as if it was waiting for someoneto come and dance on it."
Mr. Groves left his lodgings—we must now be particular about thehours—at half-past two, with the intention of returning, as usual,at five. "As reg'lar as a clock," Mrs. Rumney was wont to say, "and asight more reg'lar than some clocks I knows of."
Upon this day he was, nevertheless, somewhat late, some visit haddetained him unexpectedly, and it was a quarter-past five when heinserted his latch-key in Mrs. Rumney's door.
Hardly had he entered, when his landlady, obviously awaiting him,appeared in the passage: her face, usually florid, was of the colourof parchment, and, breathing hurriedly and shortly, she pointed at thedoor of Mr. Groves' room.
In some alarm at her condition, Mr. Groves hastily questioned her; allshe could say was: "The photograph! the photograph!" Mr. Groves couldonly suppose that his enlargement had met with some mishap for whichMrs. Rumney was responsible. Perhaps she had allowed it to flutter intothe fire. He turned towards his room in order to discover the worst,but at this Mrs. Rumney laid a trembling hand upon his arm, and heldhim back. "Don't go in," she said, "have your tea in the parlour."
"Nonsense," said Mr. Groves, "if that is gone we can easily do another."
"Gone," said his landlady, "I wish to Heaven it was."
The ensuing conversation shall not detain us. It will suffice to saythat after a considerable time Mr. Groves succeeded in quieting hislandlady, so much so that she consented, still trembling violently, toenter th